Most of the time, whenever I'm facing difficult challenges, I don't hesitate to let my parents know about the situation. In these moments, it's not that I'm expecting them to help me, especially financially. I just let them know because I get a bit of relief knowing that they're aware of what I'm going through. Oh yeah, I still have them around, and I need to keep enjoying that privilege until they leave this earth.
However, October, November, and December last year , plus January, February and March of this year came with a major problem that I couldn't let them know about until I was able to resolve the situation. It was a very quiet battle that I faced for about four months before I was finally able to overcome it.
In December last year, I travelled home for the Christmas holiday, and throughout my stay, amidst the merriment and having every member of the family around, my mind kept fluctuating. Anytime I remembered the problem at hand, my mood would change, but I had to "man up" and keep flowing as though there was no problem.
Just after the New Year celebrations, on 2nd January, to be precise, I received a call from my base informing me that I should return as soon as possible because the landlord wanted to remove the roof of our house in preparation for the intended renovation. Under normal circumstances, a landlord can't dare to do that while there are occupants in the building. However, given the situation in the compound at that moment, things were different, and a lot was happening.
Throughout that day, I couldn't think properly. I was smiling at everyone on the outside, but deep down in my heart, there were a lot of conflicting thoughts. I wanted to open up to my dad and let him know about the harsh situation surrounding my accommodation in the city, but I bottled it up and told myself, "No, I won't let him, my mum, or any of my siblings know about this."
The following morning, which was 3rd January, I had to pack my belongings and leave for the city. I had to cut short my intended holiday stay. When I got to the city, the situation was just as tough as it had sounded over the phone.
Around October, the landlord had issued a quit notice to all the occupants of the building. I was occupying two spaces: one for my workshop and the other as my living space. The rent for the two spaces was not due at the same time. At that moment, I still had up to seven months left on my rent for the living space, and there was nothing in the notice indicating that I would be refunded.
However, the task of finding accommodation urgently, especially a space for a workshop, is almost impossible in the city. Even when one eventually finds a suitable place, the rent is usually ridiculously high. It was difficult to juggle all these responsibilities, especially considering that I didn't have the money readily available.
To cut a long story short, more trouble arose in the compound between the landlord and one particular tenant, who happened to be a relative of the landlord. Everything kept dragging on until I was finally able to find a house and a shop, after which I packed out of the compound.
It was only after the whole saga was over that I opened up to my dad. Although I hadn't initially intended to tell him, circumstances eventually made it happen. I was asked to provide some money, but I didn't have the required amount because I had already spent a lot in the course of relocating.
Thanks for reading.
This is my entry to Indiaunited contest
The photo used is mine
